Meeting with Fate
by Kainen
Summary: As Reno returns from another successful mission, Vincent waits with news that will change the course of many lives to come.


Author's Note: There has been some confusion as to the time line of this story. How old is Reno, since Vincent's been in a coffin for more than just a few decades? This story does not follow the original time line from the game, rather, the events happen before (and ties in) with my other story, "Mother Dear". For those of you who are completely confused with MD, it's an alternate universe story where some of the good guys are, shall I say, less than pleasant, and vice versa. Fear not though - I do plan on continuing with the story...however long it takes. :)   
  
  
  


Meeting with Fate 

By Kainen   
  


"How did it go?"   
  


Reno heard the question as he entered the door to the private office. He had gotten back from an assignment not too long ago and had only just finished his paper work. His body sagged with mild fatigue, though not from the job. Reflecting back, his mission had been clear, not taxing at all. Almost easy.   
  


Lifting his head at the question, Reno gave a secretive, confident smile. "It was quite simple, really." His voice was light and soft, rolling off his tongue in waves.   
  


"Are you sure?" came the voice. "It is very close to morning, and only now you have returned."   
  


"I had things to do before coming here. Besides, it went alright. Don't worry." Moving from the door to the nearest desk, Reno removed his suit jacket with a slight shift of clothing and sat down in a chair. He let the crumpled fabric in his hand drop to the desk's smooth surface in a small heap. Young compared to others in his employment, his skills were the envy of his superiors, and his manner, when it suited him, was faultless brutality.   
  


Sitting in his own chair, Vincent eyed Reno critically from across the large office. Rising then to his feet, he raised his eyebrows and asked inquisitively, "You completed your job, then?"   
  


"Never doubt me, please." Mock disappointment dashed the young man's chiseled features. He looked at the other man with furrowed eyebrows and large aquamarine eyes that, at the moment, displayed utter innocence. Reno leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands on the desk, his lips twisting to a frown. "I've earned that much trust."   
  


The other raised a dark eyebrow, ignoring the younger man's inane way of response. His voice was deep, but flat. "Indeed, you have," he said with a sigh.   
  


Reno then leaned back from the desk and brushed back his haphazard bangs before entwining his fingers at the nape of his neck. Massaging the sides of his neck, he groaned softly, arching his back into the soft chair, his face breaking into a grin. "Of course I have." Shifting his chair back, Reno stretched his long, lanky legs to rest his feet on the hard wooden desk beside his dark suit jacket.   
  


The dark haired man was silent as he watched Reno move in the chair. He stood rigidly, assessing the figure before him, his vision clear even in the bare morning. Taking a breath, Vincent took the liberty of repeating himself: "So how did it go? Any problems?"   
  


Reno shrugged and closed his eyes. "Not much. I had to look for the package."   
  


A sense of panic arose within Vincent and he clenched his hand, much to his displeasure. His facial expression remained neutral, however. He stood at the edge of another desk at the other end of the room, his other hand resting on its cool surface. Except for his earlier slip, Vincent let nothing change in his outward composure, safe to allow his eyes to narrow at the younger man with more severity. He spoke carefully: "Was it not where it had been placed?"   
  


"I'm sure it was," Reno replied smoothly. "It had slipped behind one of the vents, that's all."   
  


Moving away from the desk, Reno's superior slipped his hands in his pants pockets, feeling the comfortable but resilient material brush his skin. He stance was, for now, relaxed. "So that was a difficulty?"   
  


Eyes still closed, Reno shook his head. His hair - red as the last hour of the brilliant sun - flowed over his clasped hands and down the back of the chair in a loose ponytail. "No, not as such. I lost a few minutes in my time looking for it."   
  


Vincent gave a small grunt but said nothing. He strode to the window, and peered at the one behind him out of the corner of his eye. "Then you had to adapt to the target?"   
  


Immobile in his chair, the red haired man opened his eyes and breathed an answer: "I did. But is was of no consequence."   
  


The other became stern. He stared intently at the surrounding city beyond the hard glass window, as its sleeping residents above the plates lay in total serenity. And as his eyes roamed from high above, he knew that far beyond the reach of his emotions there was envy. "Where was the take down point?"   
  


"In front of the main office." The answer was said easily, like a passing remark.   
  


"That is quite close," Vincent commented, his voice blunt. "It shows you had wasted too much time." Taking his hands out of his pockets, he spun around to face the other in the chair, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He let a trickle of anger seep into his voice: "What if the target had entered the building?"   
  


Reno rose from his seat instantly, agitated. "No one entered any damn building," he said tightly. He never liked his competence questioned. He had good reason: his employee performance record showed near perfection. The man before him knew this, and yet. . .   
  


He's going to read the report anyway. So what the fuck?   
  


Looking Vincent directly in the eye, Reno became very serious, noting the dark contours and sharp edges of the man's face. "I arrived in time to set up. The party never made it to the door." He walked around the leather bound chair and ran his fingers across the smooth material, keeping his eye contact.   
  


The other was not phased, but he was the first to break the contact. Looking Reno over, Vincent sighed and turned slightly away from his red-haired comrade, focusing his eyes on nothing in particular. He ran pale fingers through his short black hair, feeling its softness. The cut was cropped close to the sides of his head yet the front portion was allowed to run smoothly around his forehead. "How many did you pull off?" he finally asked.   
  


Reno's mouth was a strict line as he raised a hand, showing his index and middle fingers. "Two," he stated. "One to the head, the other through the heart. The target was dead even before hitting the ground."   
  


Still not satisfied, Vincent persisted, "Were you seen?" He turned to face Reno, a look of hidden concern, in his brown eyes. He stepped forward, away from the large panned window and moved toward him, his voice tight.   
  


Reno raised his shoulders nonchalantly, finished with his short burst of anger. "I was. They had a spotter with them." He swept errant wisps of hair from his face and offered a small smile to the one in front of him. He conveyed no tension, as his posture was composed and relaxed. He knew exactly the reaction he would get at his brazen attitude towards the other man and the subject at hand. Reno willingly baited Vincent for his own enjoyment. Really, his stoic commander should learn to loosen up. After all, their employment depended on their efficiency on a job and the skills required to adapt to any unexpected situation that should ever befall them.   
  


As expected, Vincent narrowed his eyes, biting the lure and pulling hard. Without moving, he managed to contain the irritation that was slowly building within him. How could Reno have allowed himself to be seen when it was specifically not within his mission parameters? Vincent caught himself quickly though, and asked in a stern voice, "How did you handle it?"   
  


Upon hearing the question, Reno's smile became crude, his eyes feral as he continued to face Vincent before him. "We saw level to level, and he got one between the eyes." A memory popped up at the satisfaction of pulling the trigger that had ended the spotter's life; when he had looked through the cross hairs of his scope and saw his victim's mouth in an 'O' of surprise before collapsing to the ground.   
  


"You should not have been seen." Startled out of his reverie, Reno focused to see a critical, piqued look on his superior's face. "You have developed more than that." A string was pulling hard inside of Vincent, increasing the tension and shortening his patience.   
  


Reno snorted softly and became insolent. "It was no harm to me or the objective."   
  


"No matter. It is form that counts -- style. You know this." Vincent's voice was sharp and full of authority. He did not like where the conversation was heading. The tension intensified as he turned away, again facing the window.   
  


"Form, form, form. . ." The tone as mocking, serving only to infuriate Vincent more.   
  


"You are lucky you were not seen by others."   
  


"I am luck itself." Reno grinned. "Besides, who said I wasn't?"   
  


The string snapped, as Vincent's voice became angry. "You test me, Reno. " He narrowed his eyes, twisting around suddenly, his short black bangs whipping harshly at his forehead. Vincent paid it no heed; his attention was on the brash young man before him.   
  


"I test no one. I give you facts," Reno replied indignantly, his anger flaring again. "The spotter had alerted his team. I had no choice but to take them down."   
  


"Your mission was supposed to be clean. A target count of one." The older man began to move closer to Reno, holding his gaze. His shoulders were back, his presence intimidating.   
  


Reno was not moved but guarded. His manner turned hard. "As it has been said: one must adapt to their surroundings. It could not be helped."   
  


Halting his advance on the younger man, Vincent became silent, simply looking at Reno. Finally, he let out a breath of air and turned away, his gaze returning to the expanding landscape through the window. It was much too early in the day to pursue such meaningless arguments. He was getting nowhere with Reno, anyway.   
  


Besides, he did not want this particular meeting to end with ill feelings.   
  


After all, the younger man never had listened to him before, even after all his reprimands for conduct in the field. "You are lucky to be here with such callous actions." Hands behind his back, Vincent approached the large window and looked at Reno's image reflected in the glass.   
  


Reno stared at Vincent's back, curious at his sudden change in attitude. On more familiar ground, though, he became cocky once again. "I was born lucky, and I get the job done." Light glinted off his eyes.   
  


The other becomes at ease as he said softly, "Perhaps. But all luck runs out at one point or another."   
  


"If that's the case, then my luck is just starting," Reno replied, flippantly and with an air of grace, eliciting a small chuckle from the other. Noticing the bit of humour, Reno made his way to the window to stand beside his colleague. He flicked the hair back from his face as he neared.   
  


Vincent turned to the approaching figure. "You always were one to make a joke of the most serious things, Reno." The very corner of his mouth began to curve; the beginning of a smile evident. Vincent then turned his head away -- towards the window. So beautiful was the world outside.   
  


"Not so. Anything that comes from you, I take with the most serious manner." Reno looked out the window before him, his eyes taking in the vastness of the land, as his mind knew to appreciate the rarity of the sight. He buried thin hands with long fingers in his pockets, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. There was silence before he said, "When you think about it, the poignancy of the story we live is that we actually live it."   
  


The older man inclined his head. "What story?" He was surprised. It was rare that the younger man beside him would speak in such desolate tones.   
  


The sun's rays outside began to reach the dark city of Midgar and push away the shadows left by the night. Its golden arms penetrated the very center and streamed through the large panned window. The amber light fell upon the faces of both men and brought to life a glowing aura. So gaunt were their features before, so closed and hard were their eyes. As the sun continued its uprise into the clearing night sky, both men tipped their faces upward, eagerly drinking up its increasing warmth.   
  


"Our life's story. It's all just a script we don't get to see."   
  


Vincent gave a sideways glance. "You speak of fate?"   
  


Reno chuckled and shook his head, stepping back from the window. "I'm not sure, Vincent. When I think of it, it's all just a goddamn play to me. That what we did and what we will do is just building us up for something even bigger, for better or worse."   
  


Vincent was amused. Never had the young man before him considered thinking about the next day or week, let alone the rest of his career. Or his life for that matter. It was not him, Vincent thought, nor would it ever be. "Have you become a preacher, Reno? When did you start caring what happens to the rest of us?"   
  


Pivoting to face Vincent, Reno's mouth broke into a smirk. "I'm no preacher, nor do I wish to be one. I'm comfortable with what I am now." He deliberately ignored the man's last comment. It was considered a touchy topic among the others in his same employment, and Reno was surprised that the older man had broached the subject. But privately he knew that he could call Vincent a friend, and that Vincent could call him the same.   
  


"And what are you, Reno?" Vincent asked, patronizing him, almost not wanting to hear the answer.   
  


"A Turk. And a bloody good one, too," came the reply. Reno's grin was wide and earnest, and he nodded in satisfaction. He looked at Vincent, then at the city far below him. The sun continued its journey to the sky above as the young bands of light streaming across the Planet began to brighten.   
  


This time, Vincent allowed himself a short burst of laughter. He smiled slightly as he enjoyed a few moments of silence. The landscape outside was slowly beginning to reveal itself in a wondrous palette of colours and contours. He pulled the cuff of his suit jacket back and glanced down at his watch. His countenance darkened, and he frowned as his voice became solemn, all humour removed. "It is time for me to leave. I am to report to helicopter pad six."   
  


"Oh? What for?" Reno raised an eyebrow, noting the change in Vincent's voice and likewise becoming serious.   
  


"I have been assigned to escort a group to a small town so that they may conduct their research to its full extent." Vincent turned and put his back to the wide panned window, heading for the office door, but Reno's voice stopped him in mid-stride.   
  


"Does that mean Hojo, too?" Reno remained where he was by the window. His posture was lax, his hands still in his pockets as he scrutinized Vincent.   
  


Vincent stiffened at the mention of the name, but did not let it show. He spoke without turning: "Yes," he replied. "He is heading the research. He has recently gotten the approval of President Shinra, and is openly eager to 'play' with his new discoveries."   
  


Reno was sharp and picked up the disgust lining Vincent's voice. He detected a hardness to the man's words as well. "It has to do with that thing we dug up a couple of weeks ago, doesn't it?" When all Vincent did was nod, he added, "I knew that crack had some wires crossed. That thing was a real spook."   
  


When Vincent did not respond to the comment, he was asked another question: "Where are you headed, anyway?"   
  


The dark-haired man was hesitant. It was not common practice to divulge such information. But, then again, his was in the presence of another Turk and knew Reno would not speak freely about the subject to others. Vincent turned around. "A small town called Nibelheim. There is a reactor there that I hear is imperative to the project."   
  


"Never heard of the place. Where is it?"   
  


"Do you care?" Vincent asked.   
  


Reno shrugged his slim shoulders. "Not especially."   
  


Giving Reno one last look, Vincent offered a ghost of a smile before making his way to the door. As he turned the knob he looked over his shoulder at his fellow Turk. "It is a long term assignment. I will not be back for quite some time."   
  


"How long is 'quite some time'?" asked Reno, still immobile across the room. His eyes now, were roaming everywhere -- the chair, the desk, the walls, the ficus plant in the corner, anywhere but Vincent.   
  


"A few months, maybe more. Then I will return to Midgar." Vincent took a moment, then added, "I have also arranged for Tseng to be my replacement during my absence."   
  


Reno could only nod as Vincent turned to leave. His eyes lingered on the carpeted floor beneath him, but lifting his head, Reno suddenly called out to Vincent just as the other man was half way through the door. "Hey, Vincent?"   
  


The Turk stopped and turned back to the room, his liquid black hair falling into his eyes. "Yes?"   
  


Reno hesitated, not having a reasonably explanation as to why he had called Vincent back. After a moment of deliberation, the young Turk dismissed his train of thought and broke into a familiar grin. "Don't sleep on the job, now."   
  


Looking at the young man across the room, Vincent cracked a smile at the words. He had not missed the hesitation from Reno. "I do not intend to." 

Vincent, Commander in Chief of the Turks, then turned once again and exited the office. And with a soft click of the door, he was gone, leaving behind a red-headed man to ponder his own thoughts.   
  


Slowly, Reno spun back to the window. Beyond the glass, the sun broke the horizon. Cascading rays of colour washed over the sleeping city of Midgar, and illuminated it. Suddenly, in the midst of nature's wonder, rain began to fall, splattering against the large window with building force. Soon, the rain became a downpour, enabling the young man to see his reflection in the glass. He focused on his eyes -- those clear, electrifying eyes the shade of the vast ocean. Eyes that had seen much in too short a time and eyes that would see a great deal more in time to come. The young Turk became sullen as he adjusted his vision to the city outside.   
  


It rained long and hard -- seemingly unrelenting.   
  


Then finally, the sun rose to the sky and clouds above and the sudden torrent of rain dissipated to nothing. The small droplets of water caught the morning sun, refracting it, painting the sky with brilliant shades of colour. And amid the dripping wet buildings and rain splattered windows, Reno looked down to the waking city, where above he stood alone.   
  


All alone.   
  


"Vincent," he breathed, just above a whisper. "I will see you again."   
  


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Comments? Questions? I look forward to hearing from you. :)   
  


Standard Disclaimers Apply. Final Fantasy VII is the property of Squaresoft and its affiliates.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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